


Warmth

by Ringshadow



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Delta Team, Fluff, Gen, snowball fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ringshadow/pseuds/Ringshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baby, it's cold outside.</p><p>What mattered was that the tiny log cabin that Coulson, Barton, and Romanov were in was warm, and secure.</p><p>Just a little ficlet. Teen and up for swearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

It didn’t matter where they actually were.  
It was the middle of nowhere, and cold, and the snow came down in blankets of white. Their pickup was delayed by the weather, and their communications were spotty at best. And it didn’t matter.  
What mattered was that the tiny log cabin that Coulson, Barton, and Romanov were in was warm, and secure. Running water, no power, but good enough, more than good enough.  
They’d thrown a white tarp over the snowmobiles, and staggered in from the cold, even Coulson had forgone his standard attire for weather gear. Barton got the fireplace started, and they’d all piled together on an actual bearskin rug, hiding under a blanket, weather gear abandoned on the wood floor next to their packs, LASH rigs still on. Survival instincts, huddling under the same blanket meant sharing warmth, then the shivers subsided and sleep came.  
Coulson woke up first, because the fire had burned down to a low red glow, and he had two realizations. One, this wasn’t professional, two, this was awesome. He was half on his back, half on his side, leaning back against Barton’s chest, in his arms. Not the first time, but now Natasha was nestled to his chest, tucked under his chin, his agents’ arms laced together over him, all three tangled together like strands in a braid.  
He took a moment to make sure this was in fact reality and not a dream, then he felt Natasha’s LASH rig dig momentarily into his collarbone and chest, and he had to swallow the laughter. This was perfect and he’d had no idea he wanted it until he woke up here. Hell, this wasn’t even a sexual thing, this was trust, safety, warmth. Perfect.  
Sadly all it took was his content sigh to wake up Natasha, he felt her tense against him, just barely, and he waited for her to pull back, isolate herself like usual. She only shifted, untangled an arm and getting her LASH rig off, throwing it carelessly away. It landed with a clatter, and Clint woke up, then two sets of hands were getting Phil’s rig off, it also getting thrown, Clint’s not far behind it.  
Phil took the moment to lever up on an elbow, jabbing the fire with a poker and throwing two logs on before he was yanked back down by two sets of strong, insistent, sleepy arms. He went willingly, smiling, relaxing between them again.  
No one spoke, all too afraid to break the spell.  
**  
By the time they all woke up, dim winter sunlight was shining through the windows. Clint geared back up to chop firewood, Natasha dealt with the fireplace and got a new fire going since that was the main source of heat in the little cabin. Phil investigated the kitchenette and found a propane gas stove, with gas still in the bottle. Nothing in the cabinets of course, and he was glaring at the MREs from their packs when Clint blew in from outside carrying firewood and dropping it into a rack by the door.  
“It is fucking cold out there, sir.”  
Phil burst into laughter because that was literally the first spoken statement since they’d collapsed in front of the fire. “Phil is fine, Clint, I think we’re casual right now.”  
“Oh thank god, someone broke the silence, I was afraid to.” Natasha said, stepping into the kitchenette to join them.  
“I was waiting for one of you to speak first.” Phil replied.  
Clint looked at the MREs, and went to his gear, then the bow was springing open in his hand. “Be right back.”  
An hour later, a venison roast was on a spit over the fire, and Phil had torn apart a few of the MREs and cobbled together a venison chili. They ended up on the bearskin rug again, leaning against each other as they ate.  
“So, what is this?” Clint wanted to know, looking between them.  
“Awesome?” Phil said. “If you’ll pardon the word.”  
“I was about to say…” He snorted.  
“I suspect this is nothing new for the two of you.” Natasha said, pondering them.  
“Not the first time we’ve fallen asleep together.” Phil agreed. “What is this? Does it need a name? As long as we do right by each other, what does the label matter?”  
“I’m good with that in concept.” Clint said after a moment, setting down his empty bowl.  
Natasha snickered. “So, will this be a repeat thing then?”  
“Yes.” Phil and Clint said in unison, and watched her laugh because she so rarely did, and it was infectious.  
**  
Afternoon came and they gave up and went outside, gear back on, surveying the thick snow. Communications was still shit but Phil got text going with SHIELD and got a pickup arranged for the following morning. And for once, they didn’t give a damn, as soon as Phil shut the communications array he was being pelted by snowballs, and the afternoon was taken up with a tactical snowball fight, Phil fighting dirty and his agents meeting him pace for pace.  
They also built some highly questionable snowmen, because as it turned out, they were all fans of Calvin and Hobbes. Eventually the light waned, and they retreated inside, eating MRE side dishes and venison roast in front of the fire. After the manic glee of the outside activities, they simply sat in silence, listening to the fire crackle and pop, eventually settling down together and just lying awake surrounded in warmth.  
Phil got trapped in the middle again. He didn’t protest.


End file.
